


Thinking About It

by AnnetheCatDetective



Series: Give Me The News [10]
Category: St. Elsewhere
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Gen, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Victor Ehrlich: Disaster Bi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 19:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17188994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnetheCatDetective/pseuds/AnnetheCatDetective
Summary: Victor has managed not to think about this for a long time.A simple favor and it's all out there to have to deal with.





	Thinking About It

   “What’s the matter?” Victor asks, finding Jack slumped over the nurses’ station, phone to his ear, groaning.

 

   “Pete’s in childcare today but something came up with the nursery, they need the kids picked up early, I don’t get off until six.”

 

   “What time?”

 

   Jack picks his head up. “Huh?”

 

   “What time? I’ve been here since yesterday, I get off at four thirty. I could get him.”

 

   “You’d do that for me?”

 

   “Sure. I mean… if I get over there at five, is that, does that work? How far is it?”

 

   “Yeah. Yeah, not far, I’ll-- hang on, I’ll let her know.” He turns his focus back to the phone. “Hey-- Okay, yeah. I’ve got someone coming over for Pete. It’s gonna be a friend from work, you’ll know him, he’s my height, blond, he’ll be wearing a hawaiian shirt. His name’s Victor, he’ll be by at five, can you hold on until five? You can? Oh, you’re a lifesaver. Yeah, thanks, bye.” Jack hangs the phone up, turning to grab Victor by the shoulders. “You’re a lifesaver! Okay, I’m gonna-- I’m gonna get you my spare key, you can take him home and put him in his playpen, pass out on my couch for a bit if you need to? Just keep an ear on him?”

 

   “Sure, great. Yeah, it’s no problem.”

 

   Jack lets go only to grab him again, with a grateful grin that Victor can’t quite sort out his feelings about.

 

   “Victor, I really owe you one for this. You’re sure you’ll be okay? You can bring him over here if you don’t think you can handle it-- If you haven’t taken care of a kid before--”

 

   “We’ll be okay. It’s just an hour. I can give him a bottle and take care of him for a little while. Look, if I run into anything I can’t handle, I’ll call right away.”

 

   “You’re sure you can handle everything?”

 

   “I’m sure.” He claps a hand on Jack’s shoulder in return. “We’ll be great.”

 

   “Okay. Yeah. Okay. You’re sure--”

 

   “Jack, I’m very sure. I won’t even fall asleep until you get back, okay? He’s in good hands with me.”

 

   For a long moment, Jack just looks at him, before glancing down and then back up. “Right. Right, I’m just-- No, you’ll be great. Thank you. I’ll get you the key and I’ll see you tonight.”

 

\---/-/---

 

    Picking up Pete had gone smoothly, the description Jack gave was good enough, and taking him to pick up groceries had gone well, too. Victor’s not sure what there is to be worried about-- he’d even managed changing a diaper, once they got to the apartment.

 

    He’d also managed to find everything okay in the kitchen. A little disorganized and the backsplash and burners could use a deep clean, but… pretty neat and tidy. The placement of things makes sense. Pete’s all set up in his high chair, and Victor keeps up a conversation with him as he works on getting a bottle warmed up. Should be easy, just has to get it to… what, internal temperature? Then if movies and TV are anything to go by you shake a little out on the inside of your wrist to make sure it’s not too hot, but he knows how warm the inside of a body is.

 

    He hadn’t really questioned the groceries at the time he’d bought them. He hadn’t thought about them when he’d put the cold things in the fridge. Once Pete has his bottle-- perfect temperature, thank you very much-- Victor thinks about the groceries.

 

    He’d bought groceries. Not a bunch, no, just… enough to make one meal, which would leave Jack with a night or two of leftovers. Except it’s been a few months now and Jack doesn’t really need that anymore, does he?

 

    What is he doing?

 

    Well, he’s making pasta primavera and salmon, two nights’ worth. Three on the pasta, if stretched.

 

    Why he’s doing it, well…

 

    Because Jack is _nice_ and so why not do something nice for him? _When you’re already doing him a favor?_ Why not? Why not do something… so when he gets home he can focus on his kid and not worry about dinner, and not worry about tomorrow’s dinner, why not? It’s not like he _noticed his hands, big, gentle_ has to have a special reason to _notice every time he smiles at you_ want to do something nice for a guy, why this, why now?

 

    Well why not? Why have a reason? Can’t it just be because Jack deserves it? Why ruin things with having reasons, why… why _spoil_ it?

 

    Pete fusses and so Victor goes and picks him up, giving him a little bounce and settling him in the crook of his arm, up against one side of his chest, before returning to the salmon. He can swing cooking one-handed.

 

    “What’s the matter, champ? You want a song, honey?”

 

    And Pete’s still fussy, and dinner’s almost done and doesn’t take much more focus, and so he sings to him, as he pays attention to the salmon. ‘In My Room’, and Pete settles against him to just burble a little bit and to drool on his sweater, but… well. He is still awful cute.

 

    It’s so comfortable, standing here in the kitchen… after the OR and the waves, this is where he’s in his element, and… it’s comfortable doing it while holding a baby, which is a little more of a surprise, but…

 

    But it’s Jack’s baby. And that makes a difference. It makes a difference because try as he might to ignore it, to block that little voice in his head from ever going there, from _spoiling_ things… Hell, Jack’s straight. Victor knows that. And it’s not a big deal to notice a straight guy when he’s handsome, and to let it go. He does that all the time, and some of those times are easier than others, but the thing that picks at him is never one handsome man he has to have, it’s the avenue he’s blocked off from as a whole, it’s knowing he can never taste it, and if he can’t be with any of them he might as well notice all of them once and then let it go. It’s easy to let the thought of any one individual guy go.

 

    Except Jack’s not a handsome man, he’s a _good_ one. It’s different. And feeling like this… being in his home, being _domestic_ , maybe that’s a dangerous game to play with his heart. Maybe if he hadn’t volunteered this one thing, he could have kept those feelings buried where they belong, but standing here with a baby in one arm, Jack’s baby, the cutest baby Victor’s ever seen or at least the only one he’s ever held and fed and carried around, it’s not just about Jack, is it?

 

    Wayne had called him out on wanting kids. He still doesn’t know about that. He doesn’t think he and Roberta could have managed kids even if they had managed to make it work between them. He doesn’t think either of them would have been really happy, not if they had to pretend to be different people, and they’d just wind up with a neurotic kid who also had to pretend to be a different person when they grew up. Victor doesn’t know if he’s cut out for kids in any real way… but he’s been taking care of Pete for an hour and it makes him want to be the kind of person who could be. Besides, the Beach Boys seem to calm him right down, so… there’s one thing he can do right.

 

    Victor turns to get Pete returned to his high chair, so that he can get the final steps on dinner seen to, and sees Jack standing there, shoulder against the door jamb.

 

    “Oh! You’re home!”

 

    “Yeah. My home smells really good for some reason.” Jack smiles, coming over to take Pete. “Oh, there’s my guy… were you good for Victor?”

 

    “He’s been great. Gave him a bottle, we had a nice conversation. Um… I-- I had to pick up groceries, so-- I just-- I made you dinner. Anyway, I guess-- Now I’ll get out of your hair, so--”

 

    “You’re not staying?”

 

    “What?” He thinks his heart skips a beat. Which it’s definitely not supposed to do. He should have that looked at. He should… he should get smiled at like that more often.

 

    No. Much, much less often. He’s not supposed to feel these things, not for Jack, not for men at all, but...

 

    “You cooked dinner and you’re not staying?”

 

    “Oh… Well, I could… I mean-- you wouldn’t have much left over for a second night…”

 

    “Well, I think I’d rather have some adult company. I eat a lot of meals alone with this little guy when I’m not at work.”

 

    “He can’t be a messier dining companion than Fiscus.”

 

    “Does that mean you’re staying?” And Jack _grins_ , and it’s slow and it’s warm and it’s _everything_ … it’s everything Victor’s ever wanted, to be smiled at like that. To think someone might be so happy just to spend time with _him_. To think Jack might…

 

    “I guess so.”

 

    And this is bad, this is real bad, because Jack’s a straight guy, Jack loved his wife and probably loves her still, she’s only been dead five months now… Not that it matters, because… well, because he wouldn’t want…

 

    He wouldn’t want Victor. Even Roberta hadn’t, in the end. And at least she was attracted to him.

 

    This is… hopeless. But…

 

    The day they’d met. Oh, Victor had seen him right away the day they met. Standing head and shoulders above the crowd of new medical residents, with the curly hair… soft brown shot through with a touch of gold, and for a moment he thought he was safe, because his face wasn’t much to look at, but the moment he smiled…

 

    And then he saw the wedding ring, and he shut it all down so hard and fast, harder than he’s ever shut anything else down in his life, but even then, the idea of being close to him, of being friends… well he could want to be friends. There was nothing wrong with that. And Jack… he was so friendly. It was easy to want his friendship.

 

    He’d sublimated every desire… forced those feelings down, until he barely reacted to having their arms brush in the hallway, barely reacted to one of those smiles. Until he could ignore any longing, or at least erase Jack’s face from whatever dreams he allowed himself. Until he could sit still and let his injured hand be treated, and not spare a moment’s thought to how skillful Jack’s own hands were or how warm. Until they could argue and fight and make up and he still never once thought about anything he wasn’t supposed to, did he? Just friendship. Until he could even do this, cook for him, and there was a good reason for it and it wasn’t about anything and he didn’t think anything being in Jack’s home or having Jack in his that he wasn’t supposed to think, and even that incident with the handcuffs, he didn’t…

 

    _You’re thinking about it now, though_.

 

    Okay, so he’s thinking about the handcuffs now, but he hadn’t thought anything personal or untoward at the time, he’d been too busy panicking. They both had. And Jack was newly a widower still and things with Roberta were… not as bad as they would get, if not one hundred percent good, and he hadn’t crossed any lines, he _hadn’t_ , he hadn’t spoiled anything at all with him then.

 

    And okay, so he’d been… maybe a little bit hurt, at Thanksgiving, when Jack had gone with Craig’s turkey over his, but that was just part of the competitive nature of the thing and his pride in his work and it wasn’t because he’d developed any kind of…

 

    Feelings.

 

    _Yeah_.

 

    Oh.

 

    _You’re in trouble, Victor_.

 

    Yeah. He’s in trouble.

 

    “Get off your feet, I’ll set the table.” Jack says, and it sounds… well, it sounds nice. He’s been on his feet for hours, first at work and then in the kitchen, and there’s something so _dangerous_ homey about the offer. About watching Jack move around his kitchen with his baby in one arm, and how natural and at ease he is, and of course he is, because it’s his kitchen and his baby, but Victor doesn’t get this, doesn’t get to watch people at ease like this.

 

    _Probably because people aren’t at ease around you, you make people uncomfortable._

 

    Jack’s comfortable.

 

    Of course, Jack is… Jack is actually Victor’s height, he just never seems it, just never holds himself straight. Here at home, reaching around cupboards, just being himself, he is. Up until the moment he turns back to Victor and drops back down into that little slouch, a smile Victor can’t read.

 

    He’s second guessing everything now that he’s actually sitting at the table and Jack is fixing two plates. Salmon, what was he thinking? Salmon he got out of the freezer section, that’s what he’s feeding the man? Surely Jack has standards, surely this is… the worst thing he could have possibly done. Jack is from _Seattle_ , what was Victor thinking? He wasn’t thinking, he wasn’t thinking at _all_ , except for what might go with pasta and he was thinking more about the vegetables for the pasta than he was about the protein, and he was paying more attention to Pete than the groceries, because he couldn’t let himself think about that anyway, could he? Couldn’t let anything get through the wall between conscious and subconscious thought that kept his feelings for Jack where they belonged, unacknowledged. Victor thinks about a lot of things he’d rather not think about _(the gun, remember the gun?)_ and usually at the worst possible time, but he’d managed for so long not to think about Jack.

 

    “You want something to drink? I’m not sure what I’ve got… Milk, I think OJ. Maybe Coke. Could put on a pot of coffee.” Jack offers, settling Pete back into his high chair.

 

    “Coffee feels more after-dinner, I think-- I mean, water’s fine.”

 

    “First you weren’t staying for dinner, now you’re inviting yourself for after-dinner?” Jack laughs.

 

    “Oh-- No, I mean-- Of course not, just--”

 

    “Victor. Relax. Stick around for a cup of coffee before you go. Keep you from passing out on your way home. I promise you it’s the best cup of coffee you’re gonna have this week.”

 

    The Pandora’s box in his chest has been cracked open and Victor is in big trouble, and all he can do is nod and say yes, as Jack gets a couple glasses of ice water and a jar of baby food.

 

    He gets Pete to eat a couple of bites first, and when he seems uninterested in continuing, turns to his own dinner, and Victor has never been so anxious in his life _well that’s a lie, the gun, you remember the gun, you’ve been nervous lots of times_ as he is waiting for Jack’s opinion.

 

    The first pleased hum over the pasta is… _gratifying_. Embarrassingly so.

 

    “That’s good.”

 

    “Oh. Well. Thanks.”

 

    “When’d you have the time to get good at this, with everything else?”

 

    “I dunno. I used to cook for my aunt a lot, when I was a teenager. Always found it kind of relaxing.”

 

    Jack makes another attempt at feeding Pete, takes another bite for himself. If the pleased hum over the pasta had been gratifying, the sound he makes over the salmon is…

 

    _You’re a dead man, Victor, that’s how in trouble you are now, you’ll never unhear that, you know that, right?_

 

    Yeah. He knows that. He’ll be hearing that sound in his dreams, and probably it won’t be about salmon then.

 

    “It’s good? I mean, it’s frozen, so I was worried--”

 

    “Whatever you did to it, it’s _good_. Victor, you don’t have to worry so much.”

 

    “I don’t do this a lot.” He shrugs.

 

    “Do you want to?”

 

    Victor blinks, trying to parse those words into anything other than the offer they sound like. Do this… again? A lot? With Jack?

 

    “I mean… at least I owe you a dinner, right?” Jack continues, keeping up the back and forth of trying to get a couple bites into Pete and then a couple into himself.

 

    “Oh, you don’t-- I mean yeah! But not because I-- because you-- But… I’d like that.” He nods. “Sorry, I’m… It’s been a long day. Well… hey, only twenty-five hours.”

 

    “And you volunteered to come over here, watch a baby, and cook dinner?”

 

    “I’d have cooked dinner anyway.”

 

    “Victor, you were planning on going home and cooking a second dinner.”

 

    “Yeah. Well… after about twenty-four hours sometimes I just get wired, and now, if it’s a thirty hour work day, I can just pass out, but if it’s just twenty-four, twenty-five, then I have to do something to relax. So I cook a few meals or I clean, or I re-organize my shelves or my closet… You know. Relaxing stuff.”

 

    “No, I don’t know.” Jack laughs-- but it’s a nice laugh. Victor doesn’t mind not quite getting what the joke is, because it doesn’t feel like the joke is _him_. Because it feels too nice to be the reason Jack laughs, how soft it is and how he ducks his head a little with it, how bright his eyes are. “I’ve never found any of that stuff very relaxing. I guess I’d cook more if it came out like this when I tried it.”

 

    “If you cooked more, it might. I mean… I mean there’s nothing special to how I do it or anything, I’ve just had practice. But I like doing it. I, um… I like getting to do it for someone.”

 

    Jack nods, reaches across the little table to pat Victor’s hand. “Yeah. Yeah. Hey… I’m sorry about Roberta. I heard she went back to her folks’?”

 

    “Yeah. I mean-- you don’t have to be, we… we rushed into things. We weren’t right. Sometimes all the work in the world can’t… can’t fix something that was never meant to work. We should have figured that out before we tied the knot, but…” He shrugs. “Maybe it’s for the best she made the call and left, if we were only going to make each other miserable. I… I’m okay on my own, but there are things I miss, I guess. But… I thought proposing would fix all the problems we were having and… I mean I should have just let her go when they weren’t working. I just had this idea that we’d… fix each other, somehow. But she didn’t need me for that, and… I dunno. I didn’t really like being fixed much. It didn’t do anything for any of the stuff that’s really wrong with me, I just dressed the way she told me to and…”

 

    He takes the jar of baby food and takes over feeding Pete a few bites so that Jack can just eat-- does it without really thinking about it. He’s not any more successful-- either Pete’s not a fan of carrots or he’s just more interested in playing with his food than eating it-- but he’s not any less successful, either.

 

    He doesn’t really think anything of it, until he meets Jack’s eyes and sees something he can’t really put a name to, that’s almost like gratitude but isn’t. Or isn’t only, he doesn’t think.

 

    “Well… I wouldn’t have walked out on you if throwing a meal like this together is how you relax.” Jack gestures with a full fork. “I don’t eat this well very often. I mean… I figure I’m doing pretty well if I’m not eating food cold over the sink, so this…”

 

    Victor laughs a little, nervous but pleased, definitely pleased. Half-hysterical nervous, but… but more pleased than he thinks he’s felt in a long time, the kind of pleased he used to feel with Bobbie back when things were new and good, and maybe this can’t be that, but… well, is it a crime to enjoy a compliment?

 

    “I’m glad. I mean… I’m glad. Yeah.” He nods, reaching for his glass of water.

 

    “I haven’t really started taking applications for the next Mrs. Morrison, but you could be a strong contender if you wanted to.”

 

    He manages not to spit water out all over both their plates. It’s a minor miracle, but he manages. Still, the voiceless wheezes of nervous laughter nets him a concerned look.

 

    “Sorry, I-- you can forget I said that.” Jack leans forward a little, hesitating over whether or not to try and pat Victor’s shoulder, or maybe slap his back if he doesn’t start breathing like a normal human being soon. Victor is never going to forget he said that, even if he didn’t really mean it, he’s going to remember hearing it for the rest of his life. “It wasn’t to make fun of you or anything.”

 

    “No, it’s fine, it’s fine, I’m… I’m fine. Anyway, how have you been, you and Pete?”

 

    “We’re good. Well… things are… a few things are complicated, things always are. But Pete and I are doing good. Finally got to take him out to see my parents.” Jack takes the baby spoon back, and this time Pete seems more inclined to chow down. Enough time since his bottle, maybe, to make dinner more appetizing. “They love him.”

 

    “Of course they do.” Victor smiles, watching Pete try to grab for the spoon, watches Jack let him take it for a little while and wave it around, try to navigate getting it back into his mouth only to find it disappointingly empty. Who could look at the kiddo and not? Victor shouldn’t, by all rights, he thinks. Not as much as he does. Pete’s messy, and Victor’s abhorred mess about as long as he can remember. Well… okay, sure, surgery is messy, but surgery is different. Getting a little bloody in the OR isn’t like mess anywhere else, there’s a good reason for it and then you get cleaned up and it’s just fine. But maybe babies are also different, and maybe a little mess with a baby isn’t like anything else, either.

 

    He strokes about the only clean spot on Pete’s cheek, distracting him just enough for Jack to get the spoon back before it can be thrown, to get another bite ready.

 

    “He’s hitting his milestones. Not a big talker yet, but he says ‘dada’, got a few words he uses, for his bottle and his toys and stuff. He can point if you ask him about something he knows. Touches his nose if you ask him where his nose is… you know, he’s doing good… He’s really resilient, you know? Nothing… nothing really bothers him much. He’s a happy little guy, he cries when he needs me but then once he’s changed or fed or just paid attention to, he’s pretty happy. He doesn’t get scared of things much, doesn’t let it stop him if he bumps around a little when he’s on the move… I mean, and I was worried… losing his mom like he did, you know? I don’t know how that affects a kid. But I don’t think he’s… He doesn’t cry more than I think any other baby does.”

 

    “Well, he’s got you. I think a kid can do okay with just one parent. Maybe two’s better, but one’s… one’s good if you know they love you. I mean… I mostly grew up with just my aunt and I turned out… okay, maybe I’m not a good example.”

 

    “You’re not a good example?” Jack laughs. “You’re a surgeon. Weren’t you top of your class?”

 

    “Oh. Yeah. I guess-- I mean, it was a state school.”

 

    “I think a state school’s pretty good. I didn’t get into a state school.”

 

    “Oh.”

   

    “Plus you can cook. And you do windows. You’re a pretty good example.”

 

    “You think?” He beams. “Well-- well okay, then. Then I turned out fine without two parents.”

 

    “You did. I mean… it’s not going to be just the two of us forever. For now… But someday I’ll be ready for… I’ll want to find someone who wants the things I want. Gets along with Pete. Someone who doesn’t mind taking care of me a little now and then.”

 

    “Sure.” Something heavy settles in his stomach and he has to force the next bite of pasta. “That’s natural.”

 

    “Taking care of him’s the easy part, me… I’m still…” Jack shrugs, giving Pete a little tickle. “I do okay. But you know what it’s like. You spend all day taking care of everybody else in the world, and sometimes you just… don’t have a whole lot left for yourself.”

 

    “Oh, sure. Dead on your feet after a thirty-four hour workday, sometimes it’s just… you get through your own time by rote. That’s why I like to make a few days of food at a time when I have time, there’s always going to be a day where I crawl home after rounds and twenty-something hours on call plus eight in surgery, and I’m not going to do anything except eat and collapse.”

 

    “Right.”

 

    It’s not exactly funny, but they both laugh over it. Pete lifts his head, from where he’s been nodding off on a now-full stomach, turning wide blue eyes from Jack to Victor and back to Jack again before he droops once more.

 

    “It’s been… I mean, they’ve been real good about rearranging my hours around which days I have childcare, and at his age it doesn’t much matter, but he’s gotta have a routine once he’s in preschool. Guess I’ve got a couple years to worry about that.”

 

    “A good preschool is important. Never too early to start thinking about it, you want him to have a head start. But I wouldn’t say you have to _worry_ \-- if you’re sticking with just basic internal medicine, you’ll be an attending by then! I think you’ll be able to get him into good schools.”

 

    “I guess so. If I make it.”

 

    “Come on, have a little faith in yourself. I mean, I’ve got six more years before the training wheels are off, easy...”

 

    “I wouldn’t mind a little more time with the training wheels on. Well… I better get this little guy cleaned up and put to bed-- I’ll be back to make that coffee. He’s going to go down easy tonight...”

 

    “Sure.” Victor nods, watches Jack go over Pete with a damp napkin first-- Pete goes from half-asleep in his high chair to fussy over having his face washed, but once he’s scooped up and kissed, he’s really not one to hold onto a bad mood. And it just feels nice being at the table and watching, it’s warm and cozy just to be there. To have this window onto what domestic life in the Morrison home is… even if it’s something that can never be his.

 

    He can say ‘don’t do this to yourself, Victor’ all he wants, but it’s done.

 

    It doesn’t matter. There are too many reasons he can’t have this for it to matter. But he can’t pretend he doesn’t feel, not now.

 

    “Say goodnight to Uncle Victor.” Jack coos, Pete settled on his hip and already drooling into his shirt.

 

    “Uhbuhbuh.” Pete says sleepily. It’s good enough.

 

    “Uncle Victor?” Victor asks, his voice soft and somewhat awestruck as he gestures to himself.

 

    “Sure. If you want. I mean… why not? You’re someone he might be seeing a lot of, you took care of him tonight. Us, tonight.” Jack says, half-shy smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “What do you say?”

 

    “Yeah. Yeah, yes, I’m--” He cuts himself off with a laugh. ‘Honored’ is probably too much, isn’t it? But he wants to be Uncle Victor, he does, it’s… it’s something. “I’m Uncle Victor. Great. Goodnight, Petey honey… sleep tight.”

 

    Uncle Victor. That’s… that’s something. He belongs, even if it’s not… even if he can’t be… He’s something here. He’s coming back again, and he’s Uncle Victor, and this is… this is what real grown-up friends do, he guesses. Dinners and talking about kids and marriages and stuff.

 

    He’s still kind of smiling over the idea like an idiot, when Jack gets back from putting Pete down for the night.

 

    “I promised you the best cup of coffee you’ll have all week, yeah?” Jack asks, getting the pot going.

 

    “Yeah, a cup of coffee might be a good idea… otherwise I probably will just pass out on the way home.”

 

    “You know, I could make the couch up for you, if you need it.”

 

    “Oh, I’ve put you out enough…”

 

    “Victor, you haven’t put me out at all. You took care of my kid for an hour and you made me a really nice dinner, that’s the opposite of putting me out.” Jack laughs. “I don’t want you to get home and only get an hour of sleep before you have to get ready for work.”

 

    _You could, you could sleep here, he’d be right down the hall, you’d be so close, only you’d be so close, Victor, and you can’t ever touch, are you sure you want to do this to yourself?_

 

    “No, I’ll have a few hours.” He shakes his head. “I’ll be okay. But, uh, coffee won’t hurt.”

 

    “Sure. Well, the offer’s open any time you’re over.”

 

    “Maybe next time.” He nods, knows it can’t be next time, can’t be any time… he’s let himself be too close, and he wants too much. He wants too much…

 

    This isn’t like wondering what it would be like to kiss Phil, in an unguarded moment, or the half a day he’d once spent with a grateful puppy half-crush on Samuels. This isn’t like noticing a guy he can shrug off. This is Jack… this is the gentlest, nicest guy he knows, with big, careful hands. With thick, curly hair, and that smile… with a soft, reassuring voice and a way of just being… just being warm. And Victor just wants to be around him, and that’s fine, except…

 

    Well, he wants a little more than that, and the more he lets himself want, the worse it’s going to be.

 

    The coffee’s definitely the best he’s going to have all week. He’s not quite willing to say it’s the best he’s ever had, the bay area had some _good_ coffee, but it’s the best he’s had since being away from home at least. It’s maybe just a little groan-inducingly good. A little.

 

    “So was I right or was I right?” Jack grins, leaning back against the counter and just regarding Victor a moment, hands wrapped around his own mug.

 

    “That’s really good.” Victor nods, glancing at the package. A round brown logo with some kind of picture he can’t make out from the table-- some kind of old-fashioned illustration. He doesn’t recognize it, at any rate. “Where’d you pick that up?”

 

    “Pike Place. My brother got it to me.”

 

    “Your brother-- Wait-- Are you telling me… you just gave me the best cup of coffee I’ve probably had this year… and I can’t get it anywhere in the city we live in?”

 

    “Guess you’ll just have to come to me.” Jack shrugs.

 

    “Oh.” He swallows. “Guess I will.”

 

\---/-/---

 

    Victor got maybe four hours of sleep, in the end, before he’d had to get up and ready and back to St Eligius, but he doesn’t feel like he spent thirty hours awake to four asleep. He feels great, honestly.

 

    He feels like he’s walking on air.

 

    No, it’s not a date. It can’t be a date. But it’s plans, for the next time they both have the same reasonable dinner type time off, for Jack to make him dinner-- one of the two things he’d said he could make that wasn’t out of a box, and Victor honestly doesn’t care what it is. To have dinner, and coffee-- it had really been good coffee, maybe not better than the coffee in San Francisco, but good! To just spend time together… to be wanted in some kind of capacity, as more than just a work friend, as a friend-friend, it’s…

 

    It doesn’t need to be a date to make him happy. He just wants to bask in the man’s company a little… he just wants to enjoy feeling something with somebody, even if it’s only… if it’s only him and even if it wasn’t, they couldn’t, it’s…

 

    He misses that. Coming away from spending time with someone feeling good like this. In his and Roberta’s whirlwind romance, he didn’t get nearly enough time to just enjoy that feeling before they took it all too far and messed it all up.

 

    “Hot date last night?” Wayne asks him, startling him half out of his seat in the cafeteria at lunch. He’d been so wrapped up in his thoughts, he hadn’t even seen him.

 

    “No. No date.” He blushes, hunching over his tray a little.

 

    “Come on, buddy, you can tell me.” Wayne punches his shoulder, settling into the next chair over. “You’re getting back out there, that’s great! Who is she, do I know her?”

 

    “No, really, there’s no date, there’s no-- I’m not back out there.”

 

    “You’re sitting here all moony and giddy and you expect me to believe you weren’t out with someone? And I mean someone _special_.”

 

    “I expect you to believe it because it’s the truth, I haven’t been on a date since Roberta.”

 

    “Hey.” Jack’s voice, soft, and Victor looks up immediately, heart leaping. Jack is there, carrying Pete with him, and Pete waves clumsily towards Victor, babbling.

 

    “Hey.” Victor grins, reaching up to let Pete grab his fingers. “Hi there, champ!”

 

    “Just wanted to say thanks for last night.”

 

    Victor glances over at Wayne, feeling a stab of panic, but Wayne doesn’t betray any understanding whatsoever. Not that it wouldn’t be a misunderstanding! It _wasn’t_ a date. But… well, apparently Victor’s feelings are clear enough. And the last thing anybody needs is for anyone to think that they… that Jack…

 

    _That you fucked him last night, and isn’t that what you want? Isn’t that what you thought about, when you went home alone, you thought about him, you thought about his hands and you thought about his ass, you weren’t supposed to, but you did._

 

    “I was helping out with Pete.” He says, before Wayne can start doing the math. “There was a problem with nursery care.”

 

    “Oh.” Wayne nods, and he watches Victor a long moment, until Jack has to pull Pete away and Victor takes his hand back. He keeps his mouth shut until Jack heads off, before nudging Victor. “The kid thing, huh? Look, if you’re using a borrowed baby to pick up women, you should know it never ends well--”

 

    “I’m not!”

 

    “Oh, good. Well… Hey, look… it’ll happen for you, right? So Roberta wasn’t the right girl, someone’ll come along who wants to have kids with a promising young surgeon.”

 

    “That’s-- Thanks, Wayne.” He sighs.


End file.
